A Promise of More
by Casteline
Summary: Neal is reaching the end of his four year. What will he do? Peter/Neal slash.


This is the longest one shot I've written in a _long_ time. Enjoy :D

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A Promise of More**

Neal invites Diana over for dinner one week after a particularly brutal case with 18 hour work days. She opens her mouth the deliver the spiel about not being interested because of the whole, well, lesbian thing, which really, he should have figured out by then. Though, come to think of it, she hadn't had to decline a date with him in, like, years, which implied that he knew it wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm not asking you out," he interrupted before she could get the words out.

"Oh. Okay." She relaxed slightly. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. "Then why are you asking me to dinner?" she asked suspiciously.

"What? A guy can't ask his friend and co-worker out for dinner? What is the world coming to?"

"Are Peter and Jones invited?" she shot back.

"Well, no. Jones was my back up though."

Something about that statement struck Diana as a little odd. Normally, Peter would be the one Neal had meals with, and occasionally Elizabeth, not Diana or Jones, unless it was a team thing. Which it apparently wasn't. So what was this about?

"What's this about?" she asked, now more curious than ever.

"I swear it's not a con or anything," he said, and she believed him. He'd been with them for almost four years now, and he'd matured… well, okay, probably not, but when it came to cons, they were generally work related and one or more of the team was in on them. He wasn't Neal Caffrey, career criminal, anymore; he was Neal Caffrey, confidential informant for the FBI and he was damn good at his job, better than a lot of agents she'd met.

"Then what?" she asked the question again.

He looked around, as though searching for eavesdroppers. "Can't tell you here. Too many people."

So, he may not have been a criminal anymore, but he was still just as suspicious of people as ever.

"Fine," she said.

"Good," he smiled. "My place, 6 o'clock?"

"Make it seven and we've got a deal," she replied.

"Deal," he grinned, then bounced over to Peter's office, leaving Diana rolling her eyes. He often had the mentality of a fourth grader.

0

"Okay Neal, what's up?" Diana asked when he opened his door to let her in.

"What, no 'hi Neal, how's it going?' Always skip right to business with you, huh," he responded, waiving an oven mitt in the air.

"Hi Neal, how's it going?" she repeated with a smiled.

"I'm fantastic, Diana, how are you? How's Christy?"

"We're both fantastic Neal," she said, sitting down at the table.

"Fantastic," he smiled, setting a bowl of fresh salad on the table, then pouring them each a glass of wine. When the oven beeped, he pulled a casserole out and set it down as well.

"Oh god, that smells divine," Diana said as he served her some. Neal grinned, the sat down to his own plate of food.

"Go ahead, try it. It's not poisoned, I swear."

She does as instructed, savoring the delicious combination of sweet and spicy. "It's like an orgasm in my mouth," she said through a mouthful, causing Neal to grin madly.

"Okay Neal," she said, setting her fork down somewhat reluctantly. "What am I doing here?"

Neal nodded, knowing that he'd have to fess up eventually. He takes a deep breath and gather's his thoughts. He's good at this, saying the right thing, but right now he can't seem to find the words to convey his thoughts.

"I've got less than five months less," he finally said. At first, Diana didn't' understand. Five months left of what? Was he dying or something? Then it hit her.

"I didn't realize it'd been so long," she said. It had been almost four years since Neal had joined the team. That explained why he'd been too jittery as of late. It also probably explained Peter's ever increasing irritability.

"Yep," he nodded, a small smile playing across his lips.

"So what are you going to do? When the anklet comes off?"

"Eat at a deli six miles outside my radius," he answered, making her laugh.

"And, after that?" she asked, taking a bite of casserole.

"And now we get to why I asked you here," he said as he set his glass of wine down.

0

"Here," Neal said, handing Diana a large Ziploc container full of the meal he'd made.

"Oh no, you can keep it," she replied, trying to push it away.

"Take it. Share it with Christy," he shrugged.

"Pft, yeah right. This is too good to share," she said, giving and taking the bowl. "And I'll talk to Hughes in the morning."

"Thanks again, Diana," he said gratefully.

0

"What do you think they're talking about?" Jones asked as Diana and Hughes walked toward Hughes office.

Neal shrugged. "No idea."

Peter gave him an odd look but didn't say anything; he could see clearly that Neal was lying, but what was it about?

0

"What the hell is you're problem?" Neal shouted loud enough for the whole office to hear.

"You!" Peter shouted back, just as angrily. "You're the problem. You've been acting weird for weeks! You hardly focus on cases!"

"Me? I've been acting weird? What about you? Everyone's been acting like it's nothing, but we all see it Peter!"

Peter was, quite clearly, furious. Having no response to Neal, he stormed off to his office, much like an angry child.

Neal closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, when a hand laced around his own and squeezed.

"Go talk to him."

"Elizabeth?" he said, turning to face her.

"Hi Neal," she smiled back at him. "We both know what this is about. Just go talk to him."

"It won't change anything," he said, shaking his head.

"Listen Neal, I won't say I'm happy about it, but I'm not mad. You and I know there's something more here, more than just Agent and Informant, more than two friends."

He wanted to deny the accusation, tell her she was wrong, but she was one of the few people he was incapable of lying to.

"Its okay, Neal."

"No it's not. The past few months… all we've done is fight. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of yelling at my best friend over stuff that doesn't matter. I've got three days left on my sentence. I don't want to spend it fighting."

"Then put an end to it," she said softly. "Fix it."

"I-" he started, then turned to face her. "I'm so sorry Elizabeth."

"It's okay Neal," she smiled. "It's okay."

Neal gave her a small smile of his own. She was amazing sometimes – most of the time – and he was grateful for how understanding she was.

"Thanks, El," he said.

She patted him on the arm and gave him a little push toward Peter's office, which was all the encouragement he needed. He walked up the stairs, took a deep breath, and stepped in the office.

"What is it Neal?" Peter asked without looking up.

Another deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said.

"What?" he replied, somewhat surprised.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry."

Peter gave him an odd look. It wasn't often that Neal apologized, as he rarely felt he had anything to be sorry for.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have yelled either. I guess I've just been a little on edge."

"Yeah," Neal nodded. "We've been trying to ignore it. Is it because…" how does he ask this without sounding utterly conceited. "Because my four years is almost up."

Peter took a deep breath. "Yeah. Part of it. A big part of it. But…" he stopped, unsure what to say.

"What is it Peter?" he asked, sitting down across from him, a worried expression.

"It's El," he said.

"What? What about her? It she okay I just saw her, she seemed fine."

"No, she's fine, she's okay," Peter assured him. "She's leaving though."

"What? Leaving what?"

"Me. New York. And, actually it's left. She's all moved out. As of last week."

It was only then that Neal realize that Peter wasn't wearing his wedding band, and when he thought about it, he realized that it had been missing for weeks."What? How does my being free soon not _pale_ in comparison to El leaving you?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess it's been a long time coming."

"Long time coming? What are you talking about? You have a perfect relationship." Sometimes too perfect Neal often thought.

"You know she's been taking all those trips to LA the last few years? Well she met someone there recently…"

"And so she's just leaving you?" How could she be so stupid to give up someone like Peter?

"It's not just about her. We agreed. We've had some great years together. But we agreed it was time. She's found someone that makes her happy, happier than me."

"And what about you? Don't you deserve to be happy too? How can she just leave you alone?"

Peter smiled slightly at him. "I'm not alone. Not yet. The worst part is the house feels some empty. To be honest, there's been someone else catching my eye lately. About four years or so."

The smile wasn't altogether gone, but the Neal found it hard to read the expression. He'd seen it many times before, but never quite this intense.

And then it finally hit him what Peter was trying to convey.

"Peter," he began, unable to form words. His breath was caught in his throat, and even if he could form words, he had no idea what he would say.

"Neal," Diana's voice interrupts.

Neal shook away from Peters gaze, still a little shocked. "Yeah?"

"Director wants to see you. Now."

Neal rose from the seat and gave a glance back at Peter before following her out.

0

Peter didn't see Neal again until he was standing on his doorstep, grinning happily.

"What are you doing here, Neal? You're outside your radius," Peter questioned.

The statement only made Neal grin wider. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked, holding up a bottle of finely aged wine.

Peter rolled his eyes and stepped out of the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"Celebrating," he said, grin never faltering.

"Celebrating what, if I might ask?"

Still smiling. "Everything."

Generally speaking, Neal was a happy person, but Peter couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the con smiling like that, as he went on the hunt for glasses.

"El took all the wine glasses. There are paper cups in the cupboard."

"We are not drinking this out of paper cups," Neal assured him, opening a cabinet above the stove and finding two lone glasses sitting there, sparkling clean. He had a feeling El left them there intentionally. He pulled them down and smiled at Peter.

"You plan on telling me sometime soon what it is that's making you so giddy?" Peter asked as Neal poured the glasses and handed him one.

"To new beginnings," he said, holding his own glass up. "To second chances. And to friendships that last a lifetime."

"I can drink to that," Peter smiled at the toast, then sipped the wine. "What's this all about?" he asked again.

Neal just smiled, taking both of their glasses and setting them on the counter.

"I want you to understand something," he said, still smiling, but some part of his features showed a hint of worry. "I used to take risks all the time. I still do, on occasion. But tonight… this is the biggest risk I've taken in a long time, possibly ever. I'm risking my best friend, but I know that it's worth it."

Neal leaned forward and stood a little taller, placing his lips tenderly against Peter's, ever so lightly at first, but pressed closer when Peter did not pull away.

Peter pulled him even closer, placing one hand on his back and the other on his cheek, intensifying the kiss.

0

"Definitely worth it," Neal breathed, rolling over and resting his head on Peter's chest, his eyes half closed.

"Where's your anklet?" Peter asked tiredly, because in all the heat, he hadn't noticed until just now that something was missing.

"Ask me again in the morning," Neal said into his chest, before falling into a blissful sleep.

0

When Peter wakes up the next morning, Neal isn't there. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind all at once, ranging from a) it all being a dream, a really, really, amazingly fantastic dream, and b) Neal running away. Again.

But then there's Neal, walking into the room in nothing but a pair of boxers and Peter's heart flutters in a way he hasn't felt in a really long time. Neal smiled and lowered himself into the bed next to him, lying down close.

"Morning," he whispered and God, Peter could wake up to this every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of it.

"Started a pot of coffee," Neal added, kissing him.

They lied together in silence for a while, just comfortable in each other's presence.

"So," Neal began. "Now that you've seen everything, am I far less attractive to you?" It's meant as a joke, but Peter can hear in his voice a hit on fear.

"God no," was all he could say, and that was enough for Neal, who seemed to sigh with relief. "Though I am still trying to figure out how you got the anklet off. And whether or not I should be arresting you."

"Relax," Neal said. "It's all perfectly legal."

Peter raised an eyebrow at him.

"I swear. Bancroft pulled it."

"Why?"

"It's kind of a surprise."

"I hate surprises," Peter reminded him.

Neal grinned and kissed him. "You _love_ surprises," he said, kissing him again. "Last night was a surprise."

"Yeah, but I only like good surprises."

"Last night was a good surprise then?" Neal asked with a smug smile.

"Fantastic," Peter replied, kissing him. "Now tell me, this surprise of yours."

Neal sighed and decided to give in. "I guess I have to tell you sooner or later. As you know, I have two days left on my sentence."

That fact crashed down on Peter. The fact that in two days, Neal would be gone and Peter would probably never see him again. It hurt.

"Don't look like that Peter," Neal said, giving him a small smiled and pulling himself closer. "This is a good thing," he assured him.

It occurred to Peter that if Neal was going to run, he could have done it last night, after Bancroft pulled his anklet (if that was really how it happened).

"You're still here."

"And I'm not leaving," Neal replied. "Well, that's kind of a lie."

Peter looked down at the head resting on his chest.

"This is a good thing Peter," Neal said, sitting up and looking him in the eyes. "It's a good thing. And I don't want you to try and stop me. I want this Peter."

"What? What are you going to do Neal?"

"Bancroft… he pulled a few strings for me. Big strings. I'm leaving tomorrow night-"

"Tomorrow night?"

"And I'll be back in 21 weeks."

"21… weeks? Neal-" he began, wondering if it was possible that he was saying what Peter thought he was saying.

"I want this Peter, please don't try and stop me."

"I'm just trying to understand why. And how."

Neal smiled. "Diana helped me get in with Bancroft a few months ago. That's why he wanted to talk to me yesterday; he got me in, but I have to leave tomorrow. I don't know why he pulled my anklet, maybe to see if I'd run."

"And this is definitely what you want?"

"I've worked with you for four years, Peter. This is my home, I belong with the FBI."

0

"21 weeks is a long time," Neal said. It was the next day, just hours before he was scheduled to leave. He and Peter were sitting in Peter's office. "It doesn't sound like a long time, but it is."

"A really long time," Peter agreed. "But you can handle it. Besides, you know more about the FBI than most of the kids you'll meet there."

"Most? Not all?"

"There'll be one guy who knows everything there is to know, just because," Peter assured him.

"You were that kid, weren't you?"

"No, I knew that kid. Everyone knew him. He was a jackass. Don't be that kid."

Neal grinned.

"Neal," Diana's voice interrupted from the doorway. "It's time."

The flight was still hours away, but she insisted on bringing him over early because if you didn't so up early, you inevitably hit every possible problem along the way. And she wanted give them some time to talk him off a no-fly list if necessary (even if he was sure he wasn't on any).

"Looks like it's time to go," he smiled sadly at Peter.

"Good luck Neal," Peter said, as Neal rose to his feet and walked around the desk. Neither noticed the smile that played across Diana's features when they kissed, quickly, but passionately.

"See you in 21 weeks," Neal whispered and walked away with Diana.

Peter couldn't concentrate on anything for the rest of the afternoon and he hoped desperately that it wasn't like this for the next 5 months. He sighed and opened a drawer to gather his things and head back to his empty home.

But in the drawer with his keys, badge, and gun, was a square box that was about 5 inches across, and an envelope resting on it. He pulled them both out of the drawer and set them on the desk, then opened the envelope. Inside was note written in Neal tidy scrawl.

_Peter,_

_There's probably a part of you that thinks you're never going to see me again, that this is all just another ruse. I swear to you it's not. Everything I want is right here in New York: you, the FBI. It's my home Peter; you're my home and I'm coming back._

_I love you Peter, and this is just a little reminder of that. This is to remind you that I _am_ coming back._

_Neal_

_PS No, I didn't steal it._

Peter smiled as he read, then reread the note. He folded it up and slipped it back in its envelope, wondering what was in the package that he didn't steal.

Taped to the outside of the box was one of his little origami flowers. Peter carefully peeled it off and set it aside before tearing off the paper, then opening the box. Inside was another box, but resting on it was a picture of Neal. She smiled and flipped the picture over. _Someone to talk to till I'm home_, it said. Peter set the picture aside as well, planning to frame it once he was home, then moved to the second box. Inside the second box, was a third box, and inside that, a fourth box. Inside the fourth box, was an even smaller box, and a folded note. He let out a little gasp when he realized what the last box, a tiny one covered in blue velvet, was. He unfolded the note.

_I know we're only been together a couple days, though maybe it's really been years. Maybe we've never been anything but together. But this is a promise of more._

Inside the last box was a simple silver ring with the initials _PB+NC_. He grinned, slipping the ring on his finger.

"See you in 21 weeks," he told the picture of Neal.


End file.
